


A Good Follower

by FudgingPastry



Series: That God AU [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Crippled Character, Gen, Mild Gore, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FudgingPastry/pseuds/FudgingPastry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Karkat's life he's been warned about the spirits and the gods that reside in the valley. He knows that he should run from them when they get too close, but he also knows that they're disappearing because fewer and fewer people believe in them every day. Karkat still visits the shrine of the god of death and for the first time, he meets the god he still follows face to face and hopes they don't kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Follower

He opened the window, peering out at the early morning sun. He rubbed his still sleep-filled eyes and went to heat up water so he could bathe. He cleaned quickly, rubbing off all dirt and grime. He even cleaned out his hair. Once he finished his bath, he changed into today’s clothes. He buttoned up his shirt, patting it out to make sure he looked proper and pulled a dark vest over it. Pants buttoned up and shirt tucked in. He tugged his boots on and wiped them off with a damp rag. He sighed. Good enough. Could be better, but good enough for now. He grabbed his satchel and filled it with food more than enough for a lunch, a waterskin, and today’s gifts. By the time he was finished and heading off into the valley, the village was waking.

Karkat waved to the crippled shepherd; he leaned on his crook and waved back, his smile bright. He passed by the blacksmith’s workshop, taking a quick look inside at the blacksmith. He was working on something already. Maybe fixing the baker’s wife’s old pans. One of them cracked if Karkat recalled correctly. Poor Ms. Paint. He hoped he could grab a loaf of bread when he returned. Equius lifted his head as Karkat passed by. There was no wave, but a simple nod in his direction before the blacksmith went back to work.

Karkat followed an old, beaten path up the side of the valley. He frowned as he climbed; he’d have to clear the path again. Thorns were growing alongside the path. He didn’t want to get pricked by them more than he had to, and he didn’t have to. The walk up the side of the valley took almost all morning and Karkat stopped a few times to catch his breath and to take a sip of water. Finally, he reached the trees that led into the forest. About a mile into the forest and another mile west, there was a steep cliff. More than ten years ago, the shepherd had fallen from there. The whole of the village had been surprised that he survived, though he walked with a limp for the rest of his life. But Karkat was not going to the cliff today. He was going to the shrine.

All his life, he had been told stories of the old ones, the gods from long ago. His father told him all about them and how most of them had disappeared because the people stopped believing in them. If people stop believing in a god, that god loses their power. If everyone forgets them, they disappear forever. And that’s why Karkat continued to believe. He believed in the old gods, even if no one would. He didn’t want them to be forgotten. His father had been a follower of the old gods, but even his belief wavered. He believed more in the god of death than all the others. Death would always be around. Death can never be forgotten. People like to pretend that it’s not real or that it won’t happen to them. But death is always around and no one can forget about death.

But Karkat was a firm believer that death wasn’t something to be feared. Yes, the god of death was terrifying and they deserved to be feared; he’d heard enough of the stories to understand that fact. But death as a concept was not to be feared. It would happen someday to all of them. Best to try and make his death as comfortable as possible.

The first thing that Karkat noticed was that the trees were darker. Of course the trees blocked out much of the light, but this was too dark for the time of day. The clouds could be darkening with rain, but the sky was clear when he first entered the forest. It wasn’t the weather then. Something else was wrong.

The second thing he noticed was the rustling behind him, like cloth against the undergrowth. He froze, listening and peering around the forest. He was sure to not make any sudden moves. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. The thud of cloven hooves sounded behind him and he swallowed nervously. There was a splatter of something and a soft hissing sound. Karkat licked his lips as his heart thudded in his chest. The thing was behind him. A mantra sounded in his head, all the elders’ voices repeating the first thing he learned when he could understand:

_Don’t look into its eyes._

The thing stepped around him; he could hear it moving in the trees. He was terrified. He was going to die. This was the end of him. He was going to die and he wouldn’t even have time to cry out. He would die here, too far from the village. He couldn’t run. It would chase after him and he would never make it. It was too fast.

_Don’t look into its eyes._

No. Karkat straightened. This was not the end of him. He would not die this way. The elders may have forgotten, but no one ever forgets death for long. Karkat lifted his gaze and found himself staring into the yellow eyes of the god of death. He tried to swallow, but his throat had dried. He licked his lips nervously, fearfully, and continued to stare at the god.

It was a nightmarish thing, come straight out of everyone’s worst nightmares. The face narrow and inhuman with two horns spiraling straight out of the top of its head. Its back was arched and it hunched over on itself. The skin was dark and tight against the god’s bones. Its back legs reminded Karkat of goat legs, complete with the cloven hooves. Its arms were grotesquely long and ended in claw-like fingers, sharp enough to slice him in half easily. Another splat and the hissing sound brought Karkat’s attention to the exposed ribcage. He could see the god’s heart beating, see its lungs take in every wheezing breath, and see every single organ black and sick-looking as black blood as thick as tar dripped from the opening. Karkat fought down the urge to retch and lifted his gaze back to the god’s eyes. The god’s wicked smile curved too far upward and he involuntarily shuddered.

They stared at each other, the god smiling and Karkat sweating quietly. That is, until Karkat moved his hand. The god watched, a black tongue flicking out. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and reached into his satchel. With the god watching him, he pulled out the gifts he was bringing to the shrine. In his hand, he holds necklaces and bracelets, each one polished to perfection. He looked at the god and with a shaking foot, he stepped forward. He stopped inches from the god’s face and he swallowed against the urge to retch. His hands shaking and his breathing almost non-existent, Karkat lifted one of the bracelets up to the god’s horns. He clasped it around one horn, having to stand on his toes and lean forward. He decorated the other horn, his mouth moving in a prayer for survival, a prayer of grace and mercy, a prayer to protect him from almost certain death.

The god growled and Karkat froze. He stood paralyzed in fear, waiting for the end, when the god’s face nudged his stomach. He looked into its eyes and it nodded toward the satchel. He reached in and pulled out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a few strips of dried meat. The god leaned forward, sniffing at the food. Karkat held it out, trying to force his hands still. They opened their mouth, rows of sharp and deadly teeth widening and after a moment of hesitation, Karkat stuck his hand into the god’s mouth and rested the meat in their mouth. He pulled his hand out quickly as it bit down and swallowed the meat. Karkat continued to feed the god this way, quickly noticing that the god was shrinking down.

He brought out a long silk cloth from the satchel and the god looked down at Karkat, their face still narrow, but their arms had shortened and their skin filled out. The black tar still dripped from their stomach and their hands were still clawed, but it was better than the beast from earlier. The god lowered their head and Karkat carefully, reverently wrapped the cloth around their neck and rested it on their shoulders. A hand picked at the cloth curiously before nodding in acceptance. The god turned back to the follower and leaned down, whispering their thanks between deadly teeth. Karkat closed his eyes and shivered. When he opened them, the god was gone.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Will Ever Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678198) by [littlebeebeebird (Jellibeebee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellibeebee/pseuds/littlebeebeebird)




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